


Lay Aside Every Weight

by chloe_amethyst



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 01:47:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chloe_amethyst/pseuds/chloe_amethyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil reluctantly answers his son’s plea to journey to Minas Tirith after Sauron’s defeat. Will a surprise encounter in a blinding snowstorm on the way melt some of the iciness in his heart? Written for My Slashy Valentine 2014.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lay Aside Every Weight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elladansgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elladansgirl/gifts).



Title: Lay Aside Every Weight  
Author: Chloe Amethyst  
Email: chloeamethyst@aol.com  
Rating: M  
Pairing: Thranduil/Glorfindel  
Warnings: None  
Beta: Erviniae the Mighty.  All remaining mistakes are mine.  
Request: Rating= up to NC-17.  Pairing= Thranduil/Glorfindel, Story elements= a good fight and a snow storm. The kind that just might even leave two stubborn Elves trapped some place together.

Summary:  Thranduil reluctantly answers his son’s plea to journey to Minas Tirith after Sauron’s defeat. Will a surprise encounter in a blinding snowstorm on the way melt some of the iciness in his heart? Written for Elladansgirl for My Slashy Valentine 2014. I hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_His Majesty, King Thranduil of Greenwood the Great, Defender of the Woodland Realm,_

_Dearest Adar,_

_I write to entreat you once more, Ada, to venture south to Gondor and meet those who united to defeat our common enemy. I understand your reluctance and suspicion, as I have had many of my own in the past. But as I have travelled these many months and fought alongside my companions, I have seen, as only soldiers can, the true mettle of Men, Dwarves, and Elves from beyond our realm. Their courage and spirit, even when our great errand seemed most hopeless, never failed._

_Please, Ada, come to Minas Tirith and meet my companions and their kindred. Get to know them as I have and turn your thoughts toward healing the differences that have isolated our people these many years. And if not for me, please come for the restoration of the Greenwood and the sake of our people. Through alliance we will hasten the return of our beloved lands to glory and our people to a lasting peace._

_And, Ada, please come because I miss you and need you. I cannot forsake my duty to Aragorn and leave Gondor yet when so much still needs to be done to secure the lands in the east. Despite my joy at the defeat of the enemy, I have seen too much darkness and my heart is heavy in longing for home and your good counsel. Reunion with you would do much to sustain me._

_Your loving and obedient son,_

_Legolas_

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

Thranduil cursed his moment of soft-hearted weakness for the thousandth time this journey. He and a small company had set out from the Greenwood two weeks prior after receiving Legolas’ latest missive. His son truly had a special skill for penetrating the fortress that Thranduil had built around his heart long ago. During the long years of expansion of the Noldor from the west and the spreading darkness and decay from the east, the realm needed its sovereign to stay put and lead; keeping the people as safe as possible within its borders and keeping all others out.

Now with the War of the Ring finally over and Sauron defeated, Thranduil’s warriors were making great progress hunting down the last of the spiders and disorganized bands of Orcs so that reclamation could begin. Thranduil knew his commanders and counselors had the situation well in hand, so when his son’s heartfelt plea reached him, he could not say no.

He could still curse, however, and curse he did. Thranduil’s company had set out on a course that took them over the White Mountains just to the west of Gondor rather than going down the Anduin. Too many Orcs and Uruks still infested the land around Osgiliath for safe travel.

Unfortunately, the route turned out not to be such a safe choice after all. The Elves made their way through the Drúadan forest in an attempt to cross over snowy Eilenach where one of the beacons of Gondor sat high on its peak. But on the descent down the other side, a blizzard roared around them, masking all sight and sound other than the wind. They were surprised and quickly overwhelmed by a large band of Uruks that set upon them.

Thranduil cursed Legolas’ powers of persuasion while fighting for his life and those of his companions. Around him flashed the silver of the Elves’ swords and knives as they connected with the blackness of the Uruks’ weapons and armor. The deep snow under them was quickly scattered with the blood of Uruks: but still they came. Thranduil and his warriors slashed, hacked, and spun, leaving many bodies on the ground, but still more came.

Suddenly a blur of gold and silver appeared in the midst of the fray. A tall, imposing warrior had joined them, his long golden hair flowing behind his head as he fought, shimmering brightly even through the swirling snowflakes. His gleaming silver armor was embedded with colorful gems, like glimmering stars in the sky. Power and grace were in his movements; great strength was in his hands. Thranduil saw sparkling citrines arranged on his breastplate in the shape of a golden flower, and he knew immediately that the great warrior Glorfindel was now fighting with them. He fought with unnatural speed, even for an Elf, and with deadly consequence to the Uruks around them.

Thranduil had no time to ponder from whence the famed warrior came for he still fought with all his strength. He felt it waning just as the tides began to turn and the Elves gained the upper hand, thanks to Glorfindel’s assistance. Uruk bodies began to pile up around them as the Elves dispatched the remaining Uruks. Thranduil himself drove his knife through the last one standing, then pulled his sword out of the body and wiped the blood on the snow. The stench of Uruk blood was heavy in the air.

Thranduil looked to his warriors to see how many still stood. Only half of the dozen Elves he set out with still stood. “Warriors! Report!” he barked to them, and they quickly yelled out the names and conditions of the fallen. By a miracle of Eru, none of the fallen had perished but many were badly injured. The survivors immediately set about tending to them.

Next to Thranduil, Glorfindel sheathed his sword and pulled a satchel from his back as he walked to a warrior on the ground and then knelt beside him. Glorfindel was known as an Elf with healing gifts, and Thranduil was grateful a second time for his miraculous appearance. Explanations would have to wait while they tended the wounded.

An hour later, Glorfindel approached Thranduil and spoke to him. “I’ve done what I can, and none will succumb to their wounds, but they cannot walk the rest of the way to Gondor. Lord Elrond is there. He will be able to heal them.”

Thranduil conferred with his warriors and gave orders to build litters to take the wounded down the mountain. They lopped off long branches and tied them together, then wrapped the wounded in cloaks and blankets and loaded them onto the litters before resuming their descent, dragging the litters behind them through the storm. Glorfindel and Thranduil walked side by side at the head of the group and finally the king would get his explanation.

“Now that things have quieted down, I can properly greet you, your majesty. Glorfindel, Chief Commander of Imladris, Protector of the House of Elrond.” Glorfindel punctuated his greeting by touching his brow and bending his head low toward the king.”

“I know who you are, Glorfindel. I have not forgotten that we’ve met before. How did you come to be here in the middle of this storm? Why are you out wandering this dreadful mountain by yourself?”

“I was looking for you, your majesty. Prince Legolas knew you were coming and by which route. I offered my services as escort.”

“By yourself?! In a blizzard?” Thranduil was incredulous.

“Yes indeed, your majesty. I’d known from the Gondorians of a few small groups of lost Orcs still roaming the mountains, but nothing I couldn’t handle alone. There was no word of Uruks, however. As for the storm, it was a cold but sunny January day when I left Minas Tirith. Storms seem to come out of nowhere and turn beastly since the destruction of Orodruin. Something about smoke and ash disrupting the weather, according to Lord Elrond. Looks as though I made the right decision to meet you, and just in time.”

“Nonsense. We would have prevailed. We need no escort.” Thranduil huffed.

Glorfindel’s lips turned up into a knowing smirk as he looked behind him at the Elves in the litters and those that pulled them. They were fine warriors, but they were not Glorfindel of Gondolin, Slayer of the Balrog. “No doubt you would, your majesty. Even so, I am glad I found you. When I learned the King of the Woodland Realm was at long last venturing into the world outside his borders, I was so shocked that I had to see for myself. It’s rather like finding a rare bird that only swoops down to perch on Arda once an age.”

Thranduil harrumphed as Glorfindel chuckled under his breath. This was going to be a long walk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you recall the visit you and your father made to Imladris so many years ago?” Glorfindel wondered aloud in a conspiratorial tone. “When was that exactly? You were young yet, although you’d seen battle. Do you remember we each hid two bottles of Lord Elrond’s most precious honey wine under our tunics when we excused ourselves from the Hall of Fire, and then guzzled them down in my rooms so your father wouldn’t know? We played many delightful games that night. Unfortunately, we discovered that excess of wine loosens your tongue as well as your clothing, so Oropher found out anyway.” Glorfindel let out a hearty laugh. “Your father complained to Elrond that I’d led you astray and wouldn’t let you out of his sight for the rest of your visit. I’d never seen anyone look as miserable as you after that, Thranduil.”

“Glorfindel, I’ve worn my father’s crown since the end of the last age thus am properly addressed as ‘your majesty.’ And I do not wish to relive the follies of my youth. You may relish your foolish indiscretions; I do not.”

Glorfindel was taken aback and stared at Thranduil for a while. “Forgive me, _your majesty,"_ he mocked. “You thought the incident more delicious than foolish at the time. We practically devoured each other as I recall.”

“Enough, Glorfindel. I do not wish to hear any more. What I thought then matters not. My duty was to my realm and my father, not my base appetites. Be silent rather than recall to me any further stories!”

They walked on with only the sound of the wind howling around them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Twilight fell all around the travelers and still the wind howled and the snow blew sideways, striking their faces with icy pinpricks. The journey was slow for they had to stop frequently to tend the wounded in their litters and to let them rest from the painful trip over snow-covered rocks and frozen streams. Thranduil commanded that they find somewhere to stop for the night and sent warriors to scout. They came back with word of a small clearing close by where stood three rickety, abandoned, small wooden structures. Thranduil gave the order to proceed there to wait out the night.

“Looks to be an old Drúedain crofter’s farm with a cottage there, and a barn and smokehouse, or what’s left of them,” Glorfindel pointed out as they arrived. “I didn’t know any Drúedain ever settled on the south side of the mountain. Rumors persist that a few remain in their forest, but they are seldom seen, rather like your majesty.”

Thranduil ignored him and gave orders for his warriors to divide up and bear the wounded into the structures. Large portions of roof were missing from each building, but the barn’s was the most intact. The wounded were brought there and settled, along with a couple of Elves tending to them and building a fire. Two warriors headed into the smokehouse, while another two took up guard positions for first watch.

The king and Glorfindel went inside the small, dirt floor cottage. More than half of the roof had collapsed as had the uppermost portion of one stone and daub wall, but the remaining were enough to block the biting wind. After building a fire under a hole in the roof, Thranduil and Glorfindel went about getting comfortable to wait out the night.

Thranduil watched as Glorfindel unbuckled his armor. He stood tall and straight, perhaps taller than any other Elf Thranduil had known. The golden flower on the breastplate Glorfindel removed shone brightly in the firelight. Without his cloak and armor, Thranduil could see that Glorfindel’s raiment rested over a broad chest and powerful shoulders. Strangely for an Elf, Glorfindel did not wear braids, so his thick, golden mane flowed with abandon around his face and down his straight back. His face was fair and angular, with a strong jaw, and it seemed as though a soft glow lay beneath his skin. Reflected firelight danced in his bright blue eyes, and when they glanced Thranduil’s way, the king quickly averted his.

After Thranduil removed his own leather armor, he sat down near Glorfindel, both with their backs against a stone wall. The fire had burned enough that they could feel its warmth on their faces. Thranduil studied the humble dwelling with its rough-hewn wooden beams

“Is this what passes for most dwellings in Gondor? Piles of stones and mud, haphazardly tossed together under thatch?” Thranduil asked.

“For common men, yes, it does. Men are not inclined to live in trees as do Wood-Elves, nor in holes in the ground as does their king, _your majesty_.”

Thranduil bristled. “I do not live in a hole in the ground, Glorfindel. My halls glitter with the gleam of more precious stones than there are stars in the sky. The architects and stonecutters that built my halls did so with skills and artistry greater than any in Imladris or Lorien.”

“Is that why for so long you have refused any invitation to journey to the other Elven realms, or to welcome any from our realms to your halls? Because of the great ‘skills and artistry’?” Glorfindel sneered. “Or is it your legendary pride that has kept you and your people isolated all these years, with their kings living like Dwarves underground?”

“How dare you question me!” Thranduil’s face was red with anger. “You know nothing of the Greenwood or our people! The Noldor sit safe in their kingdoms, keeping the darkness at bay with magic. All the while our kingdom in the east is slowly devoured, the trees turned black, our people under constant siege from the evil that oozed from the Necromancer, so many dying. Even my wife when...”

“We had no Ring of Power as do the Peredhel, Galadriel, and Cirdan! We’ve only had our wits and our will to survive. My father built his halls in the caves to keep us safe as they did in Doriath, because a besieged people need their leaders alive. And they need those leaders to stay at home and guide them, not go wandering about Arda begging for protection from the Noldor. Their constant encroachment in the east drove my father to the Woodland Realm to found a kingdom beyond their grasping and control. Why should I have thought those same Noldor would come to our aid without demanding much in return? My father came to their aid at the Last Alliance and paid with his life. And my son risked his life to protect all of Arda, and I dared not hope I’d ever see him again. We have given much, Glorfindel, and lost more. There is naught left to give.”

Thranduil expected a defensive blast in return from Glorfindel, but instead the warrior was quiet and there was compassion on his face. Moments passed, and Glorfindel leaned over to grab his pack. He rooted around and pulled out a well-used wineskin and two small wooden cups. He handed one to Thranduil, pulled the cork from the skin, and poured.

“Honey wine, your majesty. I believe you need a drink. I know I do.”

At this simple gesture, Thranduil felt both grief and anger lifted from him. Camaraderie of shared experience took its place as Thranduil considered his companion. For long ago in Gondolin, Glorfindel had lived through the destruction of his home, his family, and even lost his own life. Thranduil gladly drank the sweet liquid down and felt it warm him from the inside; Glorfindel did the same.

Their imbibing settled them both into an easier, more familiar coexistence, and as the hours passed they swapped stories from their lives. They were both careful to steer clear of dwelling on their more melancholy memories and instead told tales as any warriors might sitting beside a warm fire, laughing easily at mishaps and marveling at the odd courses their long lives sometimes took.

Glorfindel was charming and wise, with an easy laugh and even temperament. It was easy to see why warriors and kings had always loved him. Despite his fame, he was not boastful, and at times he was even self-deprecating in his humor. Thranduil felt a stirring within him that he’d not felt in many years. He wondered if Glorfindel felt it too.

After a long while, they ran out of things to say and sat staring at each other, waiting for whatever might happen next. Slowly, as if trying to pet a cat that might scratch, Glorfindel reached up his hand and cupped Thranduil’s face. The king did not move and returned Glorfindel’s piercing gaze. The warrior’s other hand moved up Thranduil’s other cheek, and then slid into his silver hair. Glorfindel leaned forward and kissed him.

Thranduil’s stirring turned suddenly into a ravenous hunger, and his tongue pushed into Glorfindel’s mouth as his hands wrapped around the warrior’s back and pushed up to grab fistfuls of that fall of golden hair. Glorfindel gave a grunt from the back of his throat and kissed him back with increasing ardor, while his hand reached for the buttons on Thranduil’s tunic. Quickly pulling them open and pushing up the undershirt beneath, Glorfindel’s hands were warm against Thranduil’s chest as they stroked his hard pectorals. They moved down Thranduil’s abdomen and ran along the skin above his leggings, and time completely froze. The rush of sensation was overwhelming, and everything around Thranduil seemed to fall away: the howling wind, the ramshackle cottage, and the protective layers he’d wrapped around his heart for so long.

Glorfindel straddled Thranduil where he sat facing him. He sat down over Thranduil’s thighs while his fingers worked to open Thranduil’s leggings and then wandered inside. Thranduil leaned forward until his mouth found Glorfindel’s neck where he nipped and sucked at the warm skin even as Glorfindel stretched his neck to give him more access.

Thranduil was hard as iron, and his breath held for a moment as Glorfindel took him in hand. His grip was soft at first and moved lightly over the velvety skin, and Thranduil was seized with a powerful need to feel whether Glorfindel’s lust was as strong as his own. He fumbled with the laces on Glorfindel’s leggings, eventually getting them undone, and Glorfindel’s equally hard cock sprung free of confinement. Thranduil felt the bead of moisture at the tip as he ran his hand along the length, and Glorfindel sucked in a breath between his teeth.

Thranduil felt the hand on his own cock grip him harder, moving up and down more insistently. The king gave the same in return and twisted his hand around the tip at the end of each stroke, faster and faster. Glorfindel closed his eyes and bit his lip, his chest heaved with his panting, and his hair flowed wildly around his face and past his shoulders. Suddenly, Glorfindel threw his head back and began to shudder, and with a great groan spilled his essence over Thranduil’s fist. Thranduil thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful.

Glorfindel’s grip never relented, and it took only a few more strokes before Thranduil’s whole body stiffened with the intensity of his lust and he too climaxed, spilling over Glorfindel’s hand with a deep-throated growl.

For long moments they both sat still, catching their breath and staring at each other’s eyes. Thranduil felt the sweat droplets down the back of his neck begin to cool in the night air. The intensity of his pleasure began to clear from his mind, and he could not help but marvel at this unexpected sharing of passion. For those moments he felt his spirit lighten, much like the younger Elf he’d been that journeyed to Imladris so long ago and had spent an incredible night of carnal pleasures with the warrior before him now.

Glorfindel leaned forward and kissed Thranduil deeply, with less raw hunger than before but no less passion, and Thranduil eagerly returned the kiss. It felt like a dawn had come to his heart, a lessening of the darkness that dwelt there for so long.

Glorfindel climbed off of Thranduil and moved to sit beside him. They both cleaned up a bit and refastened buttons and lacing. Then Thranduil lifted his arm and beckoned Glorfindel who scooted close and rested his head on Thranduil’s shoulder. Drowsiness overtook them both.

“Rest well, dear friend,” Thranduil whispered.

“And you as well, dear Thranduil. May you dream of the brighter days to come. You and yours are alone no longer.”

The two slept peacefully until dawn, still entwined in each other’s arms, when the camp rose to continue their journey to Minas Tirith. The last thing Thranduil remembered before he drifted off to sleep was the prayer of thanksgiving he silently offered to Eru. He was thankful for an end to the creeping darkness he had fought for so long, for his brave and loyal son, and for bringing Glorfindel so unexpectedly across his path again. Out of the darkness he emerged thrice blessed.

 

~~~~End~~~


End file.
